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names. Without saying Uncle Simon was naked. I told
how he had jumped up and threatened to bash
Grandad with his fist. I spoke so quickly, it turned my
throat into a tunnel with sandpaper walls. Mommy
had to give me a glass of water to finish
"Isaac," Mommy said. "It's come to pass. I feel
it. I know it."
"I'll get out there," he said. He went for his
boots.
"Be careful," she cried after him. "What's come to pass?" I asked.
Mommy shook her head and sat hard on a chair,
lowering her forehead to her propped hand.
"Mommy?"
She shook her head and sighed. Just as she
lifted it to speak, we heard the most ghastly, animal
scream. The look in Mommy's face matched my own
terror.
"Isaac," she cried and the two of us ran out of
the house.
The shouting was coming from the area behind
the barn where Uncle Simon had his wonderful
garden. Mommy reached for my hand as the two of us
ran across the yard. When we turned the corner of the
barn, we saw Uncle Simon. He was barefoot, wearing
only jeans and holding a scythe in the air, poised to
bring it down on Grandad, who was sprawled on the
ground.
Flowers everywhere had been slashed with that
scythe. The garden was decimated. Daddy was on the
sidelines, his hand extended toward Uncle Simon,
